What if School of Rock was Glee's Childhood?
by the gleek of -what if
Summary: Will Schuester needs to make money - fast. When he fills in for his best friend Bryan Ryan substituting a fourth grade class, it becomes his duty to make them the ultimate rock band. It'll all turn out awesome . . . right?
1. Chapter 1

**My first fanfic! This took a while to write, but now I'm pretty proud of it. :D I watched the movie _School of Rock_ and noticed the similarities between it and _Glee_. It's kind of awesome, actually. So I thought, "What if _School of Rock _was _Glee_'s childhood?" And this is what came of it! On my profile, you'll find a picture of the club and how they're supposed to look in the story. For Finn, Rachel, Puck, Artie, Tina, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, and Mike, I was lazy and used their casted Tinies in the episode _The Substitute_. :) For Quinn and Sam, I used pictures of the actors when they were kids. And for Kurt, I used a picture of the boy that was casted as a younger Kurt in _Grilled Cheesus_. Everything you really need to know is described in the story, so . . . enjoy!**

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* * *

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William Schuester was the best guitarist out there.

At least, in his perspective.

From the point of view of his band, however, he was only making them sound terrible. They needed to get rid of him. But the band was basically Will's only chance at _surviving_. He had no other job. He was already living with his buddy Bryan Ryan and Bryan's snooty bitch of a girlfriend Terri Del Monaco; he couldn't help pay the rent as it was.

Will walked into his band practice to see the other members of his band—Sandy Ryerson, Howard Bamboo, Ken Tanaka, and Henri St. Pierre—sitting up straight, arms folded across their chests. Will sighed, knowing that something was about to come his way.

"We're taking the Battle of the Bands seriously this year," Sandy said, standing up.

Will shrugged. "Good, 'cause I need the money!"

Honestly, the other guys could get on Will's nerves sometimes. They were just so _dumb_. And none of them were even moderately close to the level of talent Will was at.

Ken stepped forward, throwing his hands in the air. "You're out!" he exclaimed right in Will's face, his rancid breath making Will jump back at least a foot.

Then it hit him. He had just been kicked out of his own band! He was about to protest, but it wasn't worth it. He slung his guitar over his back. "You know what? I'm gonna form my own band, and we are gonna start a revolution!"

His former band mates all exchanged strange glances. Will childishly stuck his tongue out at them and stormed out of the room. Little did Will know, this was going to be an experience that he would never forget.

* * *

"Come on, man!" Will yelled, slamming his hands against the table in front of Bryan, making the lean man jump backward. "One show, twenty-thousand dollar prize . . . I mean, don't you miss rocking out?"

"Maybe it's time to give up those dreams," Bryan suggested. "I did, and things are going really great for me."

Will sighed. He needed Bryan to start playing again, or he'd never form a band and win the Battle of the Bands. Thus, he would never get any money and he would end up homeless on the street. He rubbed his face with both hands. Bryan wasn't a difficult man to persuade into things, but Will wasn't one to win many arguments. In fact, he was mostly known for giving up when the going got tough.

"Temping," Will mumbled, poking fun at Bryan's job.

"I'm not a temp! I'm a substitute," Bryan corrected, rolling his eyes at his friend. "Soon, I'll be a certified teacher."

Will shook his head, grabbing a can of Coke and exiting the room.

* * *

The shrill ring of the telephone woke Will from his three o'clock nap. He noticed he had slept for two hours; it was now five. He wiped the drool that slowly dribbled down his chin and stretched out his tired limbs. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of old gray sweatpants with stains all over. He could taste his own terrible breath as he let out a yawn. He blinked hard, lifting the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered hoarsely.

"Is this Mr. Ryan?" the voice on the other line asked.

Will yawned again.

The voice spoke again, "I'm the principal here at William McKinley Preparatory Academy—quite the mouthful, isn't it?—and we need somebody to start immediately."

Tired as he was, Will knew that this chick was talking about substituting; she was looking for Bryan, and he was a substitute teacher, after all. Will looked around, realizing that Bryan and Terri had gone out somewhere. He was about to hang up on the woman on the other line, but then realized that that might be _too _rude and that he might be ruining any chance Bryan had at getting another job.

Then it hit Will. Substituting was Bryan's _job_. Jobs paid _money_. And that was all Will needed. He looked around again, just to make sure.

"So how much we talkin'?" he asked curiously.

"Six-fifty a week," the woman replied.

"I'll go get Bryan." Will grinned deviously, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker to his chest so the woman wouldn't hear him. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and said into the phone in his deepest, best impersonation of Bryan, "Hello, this is Bryan Ryan."

"Hello, Mr. Ryan. This is Sue Sylvester, the principal at William McKinley Prep," the principal said. "One of our fourth grade teachers has broken her leg; she'll be out for a few weeks. I was wondering if you could come in tomorrow and substitute for her until she gets back. Your pay will be six-fifty a week, and everything will be provided when you arrive."

"I'll take it."

"That's fantastic!" Sue exclaimed. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, at six o'clock sharp."

"Awesome," Will breathed with a smile. He hung up the phone and mock-punched the air in triumph. He was just going to have to pretend to be his best friend for a few weeks. That wouldn't be too hard. And he'd get paid for it.

* * *

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce Mr. Ryan," Sue announced to the class of ten-year-olds, Will standing by her side. "He's going to be your substitute teacher until Mrs. Howell gets back. I want you all to be on your best behaviors; this will be like any other time in school, okay?"

"Yes, Principal Sylvester," the students said in unison.

"All right." Sue patted Will on the back and exited the classroom. Will stood behind the teacher desk and stared out at the faces of the innocent little fourth graders.

"Who's got food in here?" Will asked.

Nobody said a word.

Will rolled his eyes. "Come on, you're not gonna get in trouble," he assured them. "I'm just starving. It's seven-thirty, and I haven't eaten anything today."

Suddenly, a tiny African-American girl with afro-puffs on her round head raised her hand. Will approached her desk and asked, "What'cha got?" The girl opened up her desk and handed Will a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich with the crust cut off. It was wrapped up in a plastic Ziploc bag.

"I don't even like strawberry jelly," she said as Will took the sandwich into his hands, "so you can have this."

Will took the sandwich out of the plastic baggy, threw the bag away, and took a large bite. "All right," he said while chewing. "I've got a hangover. Who knows what that means?"

A few of the kids raised their hands. Will was about to call on one, but a small boy in the back of the room with his hair styled in a Mohawk called out, "Doesn't it mean you're drunk?"

"No," Will told the kid with one eyebrow cocked. The little one sighed, rolling his eyes. He looked sort of out of place in his mandatory school uniform—black pants, dress shoes, a white shirt, and a red-and-black-striped tie—while having a Mohawk. "It means I was drunk _yesterday_."

The kid threw his hands in the air. "It still means you're an alcoholic."

Will's eyes narrowed. "What's your name, kid?"

"Puck."

"His name is _Noah_," a short brunette in the front row corrected. "Noah Puckerman. He just likes to go by Puck because he's, for some reason, ashamed of his real name. _I _think it's stupid; that's why I call him by his real name, which is Noah."

"Shut it, Berry!" Puck exclaimed.

Bigmouth rolled her eyes.

"Your name is _Berry_?" Will asked Bigmouth. He had to swallow back a laugh.

"Rachel Berry, actually. My name is going to be up in lights someday! For now, I'm just the class factotum in Mrs. Howell's fourth grade class, but I'll be the most well-known actress on Broadway in the future!" she explained.

"That's great. Good luck with that." Will ate the last of his sandwich and sat down behind the desk. He began spinning around in the chair. He swallowed the rest of the food in his mouth, staring out at the kids. They looked back at him. Puck was leaning toward the kid's desk to his right, and the two were talking. Will didn't even scold them; he truly didn't care. He tossed his hands up in the air and announced, "Okay, time for recess."

"Recess isn't until after lunch," Rachel told Will.

"Fine, then. Time for lunch."

"But Mr. Ryan, it's only seven-thirty. We don't have lunch until after—"

Will cut her off. "Well, what do you have _now_, Rachel?"

"Music class until nine," she said. Will dismissed the class, and they all filed out of the room. Will ran his hand through his curly hair. He couldn't believe he'd roped himself into this. He would be here for at least two weeks. It had barely been ten minutes, and he already couldn't stand it. He leaned his head back against the chair and, before he knew it, was out cold.

He awoke again at eight. He wished he'd just slept through the day. He exhaled heavily and lifted himself out of the chair, dragging his feet across the floor. He'd at least find something to do for another hour _somewhere_ in the building. He made his way through the hallway and started to hear something. It was soft at first, but got louder as he kept walking. It was music. The kids were in their music class, Will knew, and they were playing a song. It was one that Will didn't recognize; it sure as hell wasn't the rock music he knew. But he had to admit; the kids were _good_. He went to the room he heard the song coming from and looked through the door.

The first kid he saw was that Puckerman kid on the guitar, strumming away. Then there was the boy Puck had been talking to during class. He was really small; he looked like he should be in a lower grade. His brown hair was disheveled, and he looked super tiny behind the pair of cymbals he was holding. Rachel was in the front row of the class, playing a clarinet. Afro-Puffs was playing a xylophone thing next to the tiny kid, but not very well. A little blond girl with green eyes and a cross necklace was playing a violin. Instead of wearing a uniform like the rest of the girls, this particular girl was wearing a cheerleading uniform that sported the school's colors, red and white, and also its abbreviation — WMPA. Then there was a lean boy with long pale blond hair and a wide mouth playing some type of giant violin that Will didn't know the name of. A petite Asian girl held up a triangle; she stood on the other side of the really small kid. A boy with thick-framed glasses and shaggy dark hair was seated in a wheelchair and was tapping away on a cowbell. A highly effeminate boy—he had very rosy cheeks, and his hair was sculpted perfectly and loaded with more product than even Will's brown curls—was playing the keyboard. A pint-sized Latina and an equally short blond girl with freckles lining the brim of her nose both wore cheerleading outfits—the same one that the girl with the cross necklace had on—and sat in close proximity in the front row near Rachel. They were both playing the flute. Lastly, there was a little Asian boy blowing on a trumpet, eagerly tapping his foot and bobbing his head to the beat.

Will stared at the kids in awe. He wondered why none of the kids had mentioned their amazing talents as musicians (though some of them seemed to just be playing the wrong instruments).

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He needed a band to compete in the Battle of the Bands, and these kids were damn awesome. They could be his band! He had to think of a plan, quickly. Then he remembered that he had his band equipment in the back of his van — guitars, a drum set, amps, microphones, and a keyboard. He grinned deviously and sprinted down the hallway toward the parking lot. As he started unloading the equipment, he tried to remember which kid had been playing which instrument. Puck had been playing the guitar; the arrogant Mohawk-ed spazz had been the first one Will saw in the music class. Rachel had a clarinet, which would be totally useless. Will didn't even know the name of the instrument the blond boy had been playing. He sighed as he rushed some of the instruments into the school; this would be a bit harder than he'd thought.

When everything he needed was in the classroom, Will smoothed out his black vest and admired his work. He checked the clock and saw that it was nine o'clock on the dot. He smiled conceitedly and waited for the kids to reenter the room. When they did, they looked at the band equipment with wide, wondering eyes. Once they were all in their seats, they stared at Will for answers.

"I heard you guys in music class. You guys can really play!" Will flailed his arms for emphasis and yelled, "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

The kids looked around at each other.

"I think we've just found our new class project," Will told the class with a smile. "It's called Rock Band."

The little clearly-Christian cheerleader with the cross necklace asked, "Is this a school project?"

"Well, Christ Crusader, it will go on your permanent record. Hello, Harvard, yo!" Will sang.

"Can we tell our parents?" the blond, freckled flutist asked.

"No!" Will yelled. "Don't tell anyone, all right? This will be our little secret. A fun project, just for us. Cool?"

The kids nodded.

Will pointed to Puck in the back of the room. "Get up here, Mohawk."

Puck stood up and loped toward the front of the room. He stood lazily in front of Will, looking up at the older man with tired eyes, waiting. Will narrowed his eyes and handed Puck a guitar. Then he got his own guitar and slung it over his shoulder.

"Can you play the electric guitar?" Will questioned.

"My mom won't let me," Puck sighed. "Don't ask me why. I think she doesn't want me to wake my little sister when she's napping. I don't know. Something dumb like that."

"Well, I saw you playing the acoustic guitar in music class. It's the same, but the electric guitar is more badass."

The ten-year-old smiled. He loved being badass more than anything. He _owned_ badassness. He was scolded by his mother when he used the word in his home, however; she did not tolerate vulgar language from her fourth-grade son with a four-year-old running around the house. Still, Puck knew that he was the biggest badass in his grade, and he would forever hold the title throughout his life. Because his guns were, without question, fully loaded.

"Try this," Will suggested. He played a tune on the guitar, a very simple one that Puck should be able to mimic with no problems. As expected, the little one played the tune exactly how Will did. Impressed, the older man played one that was more difficult than the first. Puck played it easily. Will then played one that he was sure a ten-year-old wouldn't be able to handle. However, Puck's fingers slid along the neck of the guitar and strummed away at the strings. Although a very impressed Will would never admit it, his thoughts matched those of the other children in the room; Puck sounded even better than Will. But only by a little bit.

"Nice!" Will commented. "Stay right here. Don't move." He turned to the rest of the class and pointed to the teeny-tiny boy in the back. "You. What's your name?"

"Finn Hudson," he said in a small voice.

"I saw you playing those cymbals in music class like a little spazz. Think you can play the drums?"

"I dunno. I've never tried the drums. But I play percussion."

"You're small," Will suddenly commented. "You are really small, Finn Hudson. Seriously. You look like you're five. Why are you so tiny?"

Finn shrugged. "My mom said that kids who are real small get real big when they're older."

"Well, we'll see about that." Will handed Finn and pair of drumsticks and sat him down on the drum stool. He told Finn to wait there. He then turned and pointed to the blond boy and the feminine one. Both boys approached Will.

"Okay, Wide-Mouth, name, please."

"Sam Evans."

"Well, Sam, you have a wide mouth," Will said.

Sam nodded. "I know, Mr. Ryan."

"It's not a bad thing. It's cool. Just remember that if I ever call you Wide-Mouth. I don't know the name of whatever you were playing in music class, but it's not a rock band instrument. I can tell you that much." He grabbed a bass guitar and helped Sam get the strap around his neck. "Put your finger right there, and strum here." Sam did as he was told. "You just played a _G _on the bass! Great job. Stay right there."

Will inquired the other boy's name.

"My name is Kurt Hummel," the boy said, "and I'll be auditioning for the job of stylist."

"Actually, I want you to play the keyboard."

Kurt sighed. "Do I look like I'm incapable of doing both?"

"All right, then." Will faced the rest of the class and jerked his thumb toward Kurt. "Judy Attitudey over here."

Kurt took it upon himself to retrieve the keyboard sheet music from the teacher desk. He positioned it in front of his face and played it perfectly, not missing one note. Will applauded him and turned to the class again.

"Who in here can sing?" he asked.

Rachel's hand shot in the air, resulting in the little Latina huffing, "Oh, boy." Rachel ignored her. Without Will telling her to, she stood up at her desk and belted out _Taking Chances_ excitedly. She smiled obnoxiously; that is, until Will declared her a backup singer.

"_Just_ a backup singer?" Rachel frowned. "I deserve and demand lead vocals!"

"Listen, Little Miss Conceited, that's my job. You're a backup singer for now. See me after class." Will raised his eyebrows. "Anyone else?"

Christ Crusader raised her hand. "I can sing," she proclaimed, her full lips curling into a small smile.

"So can I," the Latina added.

"Christ Crusader—"

"It's Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

"Right. Quinn, sing me something."

Without hesitation, Quinn sang _Tomorrow_ from _Annie_. Will cut her off midway through with clapping. He told her she would be a backup singer as well. Quinn smiled a genuinely happy smile, her green eyes glistening.

The tan-skinned, dark-haired Grumpy McGee who seemed to hate Rachel suddenly stood up. She sang _Amazing Grace_. Will declared her a backup singer, also. She smirked and sat back down, arms folded across her chest.

"That was very good, Grumpy McGee."

"My name is Santana Lopez, you jackass," she muttered.

"Whoa! Language!" Will scolded. "You kids are ten; where do you even learn these words?" He shook his head. "Whatever."

Suddenly, Sam played a soft tune on the bass, proud of his new skill. Puck, being conceited, began playing a guitar riff, one longer than Sam's. He flashed Sam an arrogant smirk, high-fived a giggling Finn, and winked at Quinn, who rolled her eyes.

"Hey." Will pointed his finger accusingly at Puck. "Knock it off, you cocky little bastard."

Puck cocked an eyebrow.

"Now let's take care of our remaining five." Will snapped his fingers at the quiet Asian girl. Her black hair was sleek and fell over her shoulders with blue streaks running down each side. She was wearing her uniform—a black skirt, a white shirt, and a black jacket—but, instead of wearing Mary Jane shoes with it like the other girls, she had on a pair of combat boots. Will wondered how much persuasion it took to get Sue to agree to _that_. "Name, please."

"Tina Cohen-Chang." She blushed sheepishly.

"You can be a roadie, Tina. And you, too, Afro-Puffs," Will proclaimed.

"I'm Mercedes Jones, actually."

"Oh. Well, you two have an important job," Will explained. "Making t-shirts, designing the band's logo, and, most importantly, naming the band."

Tina and Mercedes smiled at each other.

"Wheels," Will called, pointing to the wheelchair boy. "What's your name?"

"Artie Abrams," he said, showing that he was missing two of his baby teeth.

"What can you do?"

"Um . . . I'm good with computers."

"Stereotypical for a kid with glasses and suspenders." Will nodded. "I like that typecast. You'll handle lights and hooking up amps. Stuff like that. Cool?"

Artie nodded.

"Awesome." Will gestured toward the only remaining cheerleader. "Who are you?"

"Brittany Susan Pierce," she replied simply.

Will smiled. "Got any special talents?"

Brittany took on a dazed expression. "What's a talent?" she asked dreamily.

Will cleared his throat. He looked to Santana for answers.

The Latina shrugged. "Let her be security or somethin'. She's real good at soundproofin' rooms and knowin' when someone's comin'."

"All right, then. Brittany, we'll have Artie set up a monitor and you've just got to let us know when Principal Sylvester is coming. Until then, your first task is totally soundproofing this room. People on the other side of the door shouldn't even hear Finn Hudson wailing on the drums, okay?"

Brittany nodded.

"And then there was one."

The short Asian boy that looked pretty young for his age—but not as young as Finn—announced, "I'm Mike Chang. I just wanna dance."

"Sweet," Will breathed. "We've got ourselves a background dancer. Now everyone's got a job, right?"

"Yes," the class said in unison.

"Excellent." Will grinned. "Let's do this!"


	2. Chapter 2

"All right, everybody. Class has begun!" Will exclaimed. The class had all split up into groups and were each doing separate things. Rachel was showing Quinn and Santana how to do vocal warm-ups. Puck was showing off his guitar skills to Sam and Finn, who looked on with raised eyebrows. Mercedes and Tina were busy jotting down possible band names. Artie was clicking away on the classroom computer. Brittany was working on shoving rolled-up cloth into the cracks in the doorway so no one could hear the music through the door. Kurt was sketching out ideas for outfits the class could wear. Mike was practicing his dance moves. All at once, the kids looked up from what they were doing and stared at Will.

"You know what? You guys have been doing real good in here," he announced. "If I was gonna give you a grade, I'd give you an A. But that's the problem. Rock isn't about doing things perfect. Who can tell me what it's really about?"

Several kids raised their hands.

"Puckerman?"

"Uh . . . scoring chicks?" Puck guessed.

"No. See? No." Will turned his attention to another student. "Tina?"

The Asian-American girl smiled. "Getting wasted."

Will rolled his eyes. "Come on. No." He spun on his heel. "Sam."

"Sticking it to the man?" Sam suggested.

"Yes!" Will exclaimed. "But you can't just say it, Sam. You gotta feel it in your blood and guts! If you wanna rock, you gotta break the rules. You gotta get mad at the man! And right now, I'm the man. That's right; I'm the man! And who's got the guts to tell me off, huh? Who's gonna tell me off?" Will stared the ten-year-olds down.

"Shut the hell up, Ryan!" Quinn yelled from her desk.

"That's it, Q." Will pointed his finger approvingly at Quinn. "That's it! Who can top her?"

"Get outta here, stupid ass," Mercedes called out, moving her head side to side.

Will laughed. "Yes, Mercedes!" He looked out again, waiting for someone else.

Rachel narrowed her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and spoke up, "You're a joke! You're the worst teacher I've ever had!"

"Rachel, that was great. I liked the delivery because I felt your anger."

Rachel smiled, flipping her hair in triumph. "Thank you."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mike said, "You're a fat loser and you have body odor."

Will's brow puckered for a moment or two, but then he nodded. "All right! Now is everyone nice and pissed off?"

"Yeah!"

"Good! Time to write a rock song! Now, what makes you mad more than anything in the world? Kurt?"

"You," Kurt said simply.

Will sighed. "Kurt, we've already told me off. Let's move on."

"You're tacky and I hate you."

"Okay, you see me after class." Will turned away from Kurt. "You. Santana."

"No allowance," Santana said.

Will started wailing out on the guitar, and he sang, _"I didn't get no allowance today, so now I'm really ticked off!" _He smiled at the kids. "You know what I mean? What else makes you mad? Brittany?"

"Chores!" Brittany yelled.

"_I had to do my chores today, so I am really ticked off! _What else?"

"Bullies," Artie muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"_All you bullies get out of my way, 'cause I am really ticked off!"_ Will approached Finn's drum set, where the little one sat with his arms folded. He had a gloomy expression. "So what would you say to a bully, Finn?"

"I don't know," Finn responded.

"No, come on," Will urged. "If someone was right up in your grill, what would you say?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know."

"If someone was pushing you around, telling you what to do, what would you say?"

"'Step off'?" Finn looked up at Will hopefully.

Will started playing the guitar again, and he sang in a high-pitched scream, _"Step off! Step off! Step off! Step off! _Everybody!"

The rest of the class joined in screaming, _"Step off!" _repeatedly. Finn started to play a beat on the drums. Will sang, _"If I do what you say, I might turn into a robot! Do my chore day after day, and they don't want any lip! No, so step off! Step off! Step off! Step off!"_

Will kicked over a desk as he played a guitar riff, making a weird facial expression. The kids all laughed hysterically and applauded as Will announced, "Now that is a perfectly decent rock song!" He took a bow, the kids still laughing.

* * *

Later, at lunchtime, Will was eating with the rest of the staff members at William McKinley Preparatory Academy. Suddenly, Finn approached the table.

"Hey, Mr. Ryan."

Will looked up. "Hey, Finn."

"That was a really cool lesson today," Finn commented, smiling.

"Well, thanks, dude. I'll see you back in class."

Finn nodded. "Okay."

The teachers all looked at Will, giving him approving smiles. He went up to the buffet-style lunch line to get a napkin. Mercedes and Tina approached him with their lunch trays in hand. Will glanced at them.

"What's up, T and 'Cedes?" he asked.

"We've got some name suggestions for the band," Tina explained.

"Yeah? Hit me!"

Mercedes put down her lunch so she could pull a piece of paper from her pocket. She read off, "The Bumblebees."

Will cocked an eyebrow. "No, it's sissy."

"The Koala Bears," Tina suggested.

"What are you talking about? It's sissy!" Will exclaimed.

Suddenly, Will saw Sue walking by, monitoring the children. Will informed Mercedes and Tina that he had to speak with her. He ran up to the principal and greeted her. She nodded at him in response, giving him a smile.

"Hey, Miss Sylvester," Will sighed. "How's it going?"

Without warning, Mercedes and Tina appeared in front of them, and Tina asked, "How about Pig Rectum?"

"Tina!" Sue scolded, her eyes widening.

"It's a science project," Will assured her. He then stared at the girls; they took the hint and scurried off to eat their lunch. Will began to walk with Sue around the cafeteria. "Listen, Sue, I was thinking about organizing a field trip. What do you think about that?"

"Well . . ." Sue hesitated. "Substitutes, as a rule, do not organize field trips."

"But I figure I'm gonna be here for a while," Will retorted.

Sue bobbed her head side-to-side. "Well, that remains to be seen."

"But the kids could learn by getting out of the classroom."

Sue sighed. "It's more complicated than that. There's safety issues. Parents need to be notified. It's against school policy."

Will ran a hand through his lathered brown curls.

"Mr. Ryan, I have a lot of ideas," Kurt said, appearing next to Will out of the blue. Will looked down at the effeminate boy with raised eyebrows. "How about everyone in magenta with beads and sequins?"

"Kurt, I'm talking to Principal Sylvester."

All Will could do was sigh.

* * *

"All right. Good. Stop." The band had been practicing a song that Will had written himself. They sounded a bit off, but they were definitely getting a lot better than when they started. Tina was beginning to sketch band logo designs as Mercedes still drilled her brain for a cool band name. Kurt was working on a model of the outfits he wanted everyone to wear. Artie had set up the camera in the hall to know when Principal Sylvester was coming, and he was hooking it up to the computer monitor in the classroom. Brittany was working on putting more cloth in the cracks of the door. Mike was choreographing his dance for the song the band was playing.

"Okay, Finn, that was awesome," Will told the little drummer. "You're rocking, but it's a little sloppy-joe. Tighten up the screws, okay?"

The teeny boy nodded. He started to practice the beat as Will turned to Puck.

"Puck, dude, what's up with the stiffness, man? You're looking a little robotronic," Will informed the young boy. "Okay?"

Puck nodded.

"Let's grease up the hinges, and listen: loosey-goosey, baby, loosey-goosey."

I'm playing it the way you told me," Puck mumbled.

Will nodded. "I know. It's perfect. But rock is about the passion, man. Where's the joy?" He put his hand on Puck's shoulder. "You're lead guitarist. We are counting on you for style, brother. Now give me an _E_ chord."

Puck did as he was told.

"Yeah, now raise your goblet of rock. It's a toast to those who rock."

Puck raised his guitar pick in the air.

"Now smile and nod your head and let me see your eyeballs wide, like there's something wrong."

With the pick still raised over his head, the little boy with the Mohawk let his eyes widen and bobbed his head.

"Yeah!" Will exclaimed. "Do it again. Give me a windmill motion when you play the _E_."

Puck did exactly as he was told, ending with the wide-eyed, raised-guitar-pick action.

"That's what I'm talking about." Will turned to the rest of the band. "Okay, let's do it again, from 'You're not hardcore.'" He counted off, "One, two, three!" Then he sang, _"__You're not hardcore!"_

"_No, you're not hardcore," _Rachel, Quinn, and Mercedes repeated.

"_Unless you live hardcore!" _Will yelled.

"_Unless you live hardcore!"_

Will cut them off and nodded. "Yeah! Now we're rocking."

* * *

When the class ended, Will started to hand out CDs of legendary rock bands to the class. He knew that they wouldn't know good music if it hit them in the face. He needed them to learn what rock was all about.

"Your homework is to listen to some real music," he informed them. "Get inspired."

"Are we gonna goof off every day?" Finn asked as he got his CD.

"We're not goofing off, Undersizer," Will insisted. "We're creating musical fusion."

Finn shrugged. "Are we gonna do _that_ every day?"

"Yeah. Get used to it."

Finn exited the room, and Puck approached Will next.

"Are you psyched about the project?" Will asked.

"Sure," Puck replied. He took his CD and went to leave the room.

"'Sure'?" Will clarified. "Hey. Wait."

Puck came back.

"What's up, Puckerman? You're the lead guitarist of an unbelievable rock band. This is a dream come true for you."

"Okay."

Will sighed. "All right. I'll see you."

Puck threw his bag over his shoulder and ducked out of the room. Will was packing away his stuff when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Mr. Ryan?"

Will turned around to see Mercedes. "Hey, 'Cedes. What's up?"

"I don't want to be a roadie," Mercedes told him.

"Why not? It's an important job."

Mercedes looked unconvinced.

"All right. Well . . ." Will thought for a moment. "You wanna be security?"

"I wanna be a singer."

"A singer?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Okay. Sing me something."

The little one bit her lip.

"I can't let you be a singer if you can't sing," Will told her.

Mercedes belted out a soulful tune unknown to Will, but it sounded beautiful coming from Mercedes' mouth. The ten-year-old was damn talented. Will cut her off, gaping.

"Oh, my goodness. Nice pipes, 'Cedes! Why didn't you raise your hand when I was looking for singers?"

Mercedes shrugged.

Will tapped his chin. "I suppose I could boot Rachel from backup. I'll make her band manager or something." He looked at Mercedes. "You're in."

* * *

When Will arrived at WMPA the next day, he exited his car and saw Puck being yelled at by his mother. He stopped to listen.

"You can play music after your homework, after your chores, but not until then," Mrs. Puckerman said loudly.

Puck sighed and turned to walk away. Being smaller than his mother, Mrs. Puckerman was able to grab the back of Puck's backpack and pull him back to look at her

"Noah, do not walk away from me when I'm talking to you," she scolded. "It's very rude. All right?"

Puck nodded slowly.

"Last thing. Guitar after homework and chores, and only what Miss Sheinkopf gives you," Mrs. Puckerman ordered, referring to WMPA's music teacher. "No more rock music, okay?"

"'Kay, Mom," Puck grumbled.

"All right, get to class. Watch that attitude, Noah."

Will shook his head in disgust.

* * *

**This one was pretty short compared to the last. Sorry! :\ Anyway, hoped you liked it! Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This one is kind of short, too. Oh, well. :D I'm working on the fourth chapter right now! Enjoy and review!**

* * *

Brittany walked the perimeter of William McKinley Preparatory Academy, scoping for any members of the staff or other children. Mike walked right behind her, doing just the same. Brittany clenched her walkie-talkie in her hand. The two tiptoed stealthily across the parking lot and toward Will's van. As Mike started to open up the back, Brittany said into the walkie-talkie, "All clear."

Will received the message on his own end of the conversation. He motioned for the other ten kids to follow him as he started rushing out the door of the school. He was carrying his guitar and an amp. Finn, Sam, and Puck all carried parts of the drum set, and Puck had his guitar case slung over his back. Santana had Sam's bass. Mercedes was carrying another amp. Kurt had a two microphone stands and a bag over his shoulder, which held four microphones. Quinn had the other two stands.

"Come on!" Will yelled as he led them toward his van. "Go, go, go!"

One by one, the kids all jumped in the back, pushing the items they held into a pile in the corner of the van. Once they were all in, Brittany and Mike joined them, and Will closed the door. Then he ran around to the driver's side and started up the van.

"All right, you guys. Is everybody ready?" he asked.

"Yeah!" they yelled from the back.

"Strap in. Let's do this."

They were on their way to the audition to participate in the Battle of the Bands. Will knew that they would get in. They were totally ready, and the kids had been kicking ass in practice. They were going to get into the Battle of the Bands if it was the last thing they did.

* * *

Meanwhile, Rachel and Tina had agreed to stay behind with Artie. Will and the kids had prepared a recording to play when Principal Sylvester walked by the classroom. Rachel looked out into the hall and saw Principal Sylvester strolling by. She informed Artie that Sue was coming and she joined Tina in watching as Artie clicked away on the computer, pulling up a little box and pressing the play button.

_"__In 1492," _Will's voice said through the computer speakers,_ "Columbus_ _sailed the ocean . . . ?"_

"Blue," Tina answered aloud. Artie gave her a thumbs-up.

_"__Blue. That's right,"_ Will's voice praised. "_Okay. Now, Columbus had three boats._ _They were the_ Nina_, the . . . ? Do you know the second boat, Artie?_

"The _Pinta_," Artie responded.

_"_Pinta_, that's right. And the . . . ?_ _How about you, Puck?"_

_"_Santa Marina_?" _Puck's voice guessed.

_"__Actually, it's_ Santa Maria. _Okay. Now, you got . . ." _Will had paused and clapped his hands while recording, trying to make it seem like he was getting the kids' attention. _"Listen. Pay attention, kids."_

"She's gone," Rachel said, looking out into the hall again.

Artie breathed a sigh of relief. Rachel and Tina exchanged a high-five.

* * *

"Check out these little kids, man." A member of one of the other auditioning bands was standing with one of his bandmates, looking down at the fourth-graders. Puck stepped forward, his shoulders squared.

"Hey, shut up," he growled.

"Oh, sorry. Thought this was Battle of the Bands, not the Mickey Mouse Club," the guy laughed, exchanging a fist-pound with his friend.

"Want a piece of me?" Puck challenged.

The guy scoffed. "Look at this!"

"Puck!" Will scolded. "Come on, man. We gotta focus. We gotta nail this audition."

"Mr. Ryan?" Mercedes said from behind Will.

He turned to her. "What's up?"

"I don't think I can sing," Mercedes explained.

"What are you talking about?" Will looked back at the other kids. Then he took Mercedes' arm. "Come here." He led her across the lobby. "So, 'Cedes, what's going on? What do you mean you can't sing?"

"I don't feel good. I feel sick," Mercedes mumbled. "Just let Santana and Quinn do it. And you can even go pick up Rachel at the school and let her take my place. You know how mad she was when you told her she was just a roadie now. Just let them take care of it."

"No. They can't sing like you can. I need you." Will sighed. "What is it? Are you nervous?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Yeah? Why?" Will asked. "What are you afraid of?"

Mercedes frowned. "They're gonna laugh at me."

"Why would they laugh at you?"

"I don't know." Mercedes shrugged. "Because I'm fat."

Will blinked. "'Cedes, you've got something everybody wants. You've got talent, girl. You have an incredible voice. I'm not just saying that. You heard of Aretha Franklin, right?" he asked.

Mercedes nodded again.

"Okay, she's a big lady. But when she sings, she blows people's minds. Everybody wants to party with Aretha! And you know who else used to have a weight issue?"

"Who?" Mercedes questioned.

Will pointed to himself. "Me. But once I started to get up onstage, started doing my thing, people worshipped me. Because I was sexy _and_ chubby, man."

"Why didn't you do on a diet? And how did you get skinny again?"

"I didn't go on a diet because I liked to eat." Will shrugged. "Is that such a crime? I guess I lost the weight when I started running around onstage. You know what? That's not even the point." He shook his head. "The thing is, you're a rock star now. All you gotta do is rock your heart out. People are gonna dig you, I swear. Let's just show them what we got. What do you say?"

"Okay," Mercedes breathed, nodding. "Thank you."

Will smiled. "Let's rock." He walked back to the group with Mercedes. "Okay. We are good to go."

"No, we're not," Sam disagreed. "Puck took off."

"Where?" Will asked.

Mike told him, "Some guys invited him to their van."

"What? Come on, you guys!" Will yelled. He told them all to stay put and he took off running out of the building. He searched the parking lot for a van, but all he saw was his own. He started to call Puck's name aloud, hoping the young boy would suddenly emerge from a van. Will saw a member of a different band making his way to the entrance of the building. Will stopped him.

"Hey, have you seen a little kid, like, yay high?" Will asked, holding his hand a certain distance above the ground to illustrate Puck's height. The guy pointed across the lot. Sure enough, there was a van sitting there. Will sighed and sprinted toward it. He found Puck sitting with a group of four other guys in the back of the van.

"Dang it," Will muttered. Puck pretended he didn't see him. "Puck, this is your teacher talking!"

Puck turned to him. "Hey, Mr. Ryan."

"What's going on here?" Will asked.

"Nothing," Puck replied, shrugging. "Just chilling."

"Puck, get out of that van this instant," Will ordered.

Puck rolled his eyes and stood up. "See you guys," he said to the band. He hopped out of the van and stood next to Will. He told the little one to go back inside. Puck did as he was told.

Will stared the other guys down. "You think you're pretty funny, partying with an innocent little kid?"

"Dude, we're just chilling," one of them said.

"That kid's ten years old! He looks up to you. You are setting an example for him, so start acting like a responsible adult!" Will yelled. "That goes for all of you guys." He started toward the building. "Don't make me come back here."

"What's the big deal?" Puck asked when Will got back inside. "You're acting like my mom."

"You had me worried sick!" Will exclaimed.

"I was hanging with real rockers."

"They aren't real rockers. They're posers," Will insisted. "Rock ain't about getting loaded and being a jerk. Now, this is serious business here. We've got a mission. Putting on a great show is the most important thing. One great rock show can change the world. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah," Puck sighed.

"If you ever scare me like that again, so help me, I will send a note home to your parents. Let's go."

* * *

As the band entered the room where auditions were being held, they noticed a large stage with a judges' panel in front of it. But the most noticeable detail was that the place was almost entirely cleared out, with the exception of the three judges clearing off their table, and a lone man across the room with a clipboard.

"Hey, man, check this place out," Puck said to Finn.

"Yeah." Finn nodded. "It's cool."

"Hey, what's going on?" Will asked the judges. "Where is everyone?"

"Auditions are over," one of them said.

"What? Who's in charge?" Will yelled. The judge pointed to the lean man with slicked hair and glasses across the room. Will ran up to him. "Listen, you can't leave. You haven't heard our band!"

"The bill is full," the man sighed. "We're overbooked."

"Let us play one song. We're here. We're ready."

"Who are they?" the guy asked, pointing to the fourth-grade class behind Will.

"My band," he responded.

"Kids? Is this some kind of gimmick?"

"It's not a gimmick. They're kids, but they're awesome," Will insisted.

"Thanks for coming down, but you're really not what we're looking for."

"These kids have worked their little fingers to the bone just to play one song for you, so sit down, shut up, and listen!" Will exclaimed.

* * *

They ended up outside, back at Will's van. As they were going to load up, they noticed Artie, Rachel, and Tina standing by. Will asked how they got there.

"We ran," Tina explained.

"How did the audition go?" Rachel asked.

"We were too late," Puck mumbled. "We couldn't audition."

Rachel shrugged. "It was just a warm-up. We'll still compete against the other schools."

"What? This _is_ the gig, Rachel!" Will yelled.

"Then we shouldn't take no for an answer," Rachel said simply.

"Don't take no for an answer? He was gonna call the fuzz."

"Would you just listen to me?" Rachel asked. "I have an idea."

Will went back in the building to find the guy he'd spoken to before. "Hi there," Will greeted him. "Hi. It's okay. It's cool. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have barged in here. It wasn't fair to you or the kids, especially after what they've been through." He shook his head. "God, I feel like a jerk. I'm taking them back to the hospital. Just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"That's fine," the guy muttered, not really paying attention.

"See, I volunteer down at St. Margarita's, in the children's wing, teaching music."

The man looked up. "Really? That's nice. That's very nice."

"Actually, it isn't," Will disagreed, "because I totally screwed up. I told the kids if they practiced, they'd get into Battle of the Bands."

"What did you tell them that for?"

Will shrugged, frowning. "I don't know. I just wanted to give them something to look forward to, to keep their spirits up. Look at them." The two looked outside. All of the kids were looking sickly and depressed. Rachel and Mercedes were sitting on the hood of the van, hunched over. Finn was lying face-down on the ground. Sam knelt beside him, looking tired enough to fall down at any moment. Quinn and Puck sat next to each other in front of the van, their heads leaning against one another's. Santana and Brittany held pinkies and sat in the passenger seat, leaving the door open so they would be seen. Tina was sitting on Artie's lap, and both of them pretended to be passed out. Kurt and Mike were walking around, dragging their feet slowly. "They're terminal. Every last one of them."

"Jeez."

"Yeah, and all they wanted to do before they bit the dust was play Battle of the Bands," Will breathed.

"What do they all have?" the guy asked.

"It's a . . ."—Will thought quickly—". . . rare blood disease. 'Stick-it-to-da-man-iosis.'"

"What's that? I've never heard of it."

Will nodded. "You're lucky. Because it's hell."

"Wow."

* * *

Will went back outside. All the kids looked up at him hopefully.

"We're on the bill," he told them.

All at once, they jumped up and started cheering, screaming, "Yes!"

"Cut it out!" Will scolded. "You're dying, remember?"

They all stopped cheering and went back to their positions. Tina flopped back into Artie's lap. Finn fell face-first onto the pavement.

"Get in the van."

* * *

"Rachel, you get an A-plus and fifty gold stars," Will praised once they were all back in the classroom.

Rachel smiled. "I didn't do it for the grade."

"Give me some of that!" Will yelled, holding up his hand in front of Rachel for a high-five, and she obliged. Will dismissed the class and let them start practicing in groups for the Battle of the Bands.

"Hey, Mr. Ryan? We have a name for the band."

Will looked up at Tina and Rachel. Tina was holding a folded-up T-shirt in her hands. Both girls were grinning.

"Hit me," Will urged.

At once, Tina released the bottom of the T-shirt, revealing it. It was all black, with the exception of one whitish-yellow banner running across the middle. There were wings protruding from the sides of a phrase written in bubble letters: "School of Rock."

"The School of Rock," Will read aloud. He smiled. "And we shall teach rock 'n' roll to the world." He leapt up and grabbed his guitar, going to where Puck, Sam, Finn, and Kurt were practicing. Will started playing the guitar, and he sang, _"There's no way you can stop_ _the School of Rock_, _yeah!"_

"Stop. We have a red alert," Brittany warned. "It's Sylvester."

"To your positions!" Will demanded, putting his guitar back on its stand in the corner of the room. Puck and Sam put theirs in the closet of the classroom. Quinn and Mike helped Finn quickly disassemble the drum set enough for it to fit in the closet. As they did so, Mercedes and Santana pushed two amps in as well. Kurt took the keyboard off the stand and hid both parts behind the classroom cubbies. Rachel and Tina put their T-shirt designs in Rachel's backpack. Artie closed out of the screen which displayed what was being shown on the camera he'd set up outside the classroom. All of the kids got to their seats as quickly as they could, and Will went up to the board, picking up a dry-erase marker. Just as Sue entered the classroom, Will wrote "E=MC2" on the board.

"And therefore," he announced, making it seem like he was in the middle of a lesson, "E=MC2." He turned toward the door to see Sue standing there. "Oh, Miss Sylvester. Come in."

Sue strolled in casually. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Miss Lemons said she heard music coming from the classroom."

"Music?" Will took on a baffled expression. "Music. I haven't heard any music. You know what?" He turned toward the class. "Miss Lemons must be on crack, right, kids?"

A few of them nodded.

"Well, what's that?" Sue asked, motioning toward the guitar in the corner of the room. Will opened and closed his mouth, not knowing how to respond. He stared out at the class. A handful of them shrugged, while the others just sat, wide-eyed.

"Oh, that. Yeah." Will nodded. "We were singing. We were singing and learning. We were learning in sing-song."

"One of your methods?"

"Yeah. I find it's helpful when you're teaching the subjects that are the boring subjects."

Sue shrugged. "Well, you don't mind if I just sit in on your class this afternoon, do you?"

"No. No." Will shook his head. "Come on back this afternoon."

"It is the afternoon." Sue smiled. "I meant now. So please just continue with your method." She sat in an empty desk at the back of the class.

"Yeah. Okay." Will got his guitar and went back to the front of the class. He cleared his throat several times. Then he began to strum his guitar and sing, _"Math is a wonderful thing._ _Math is a really cool thing._ _So get off your 'ath;'_ _let's do some math!_ _Math, math, math, math, math." _He approached Rachel's desk. _"Three minus four is . . ."_

"Negative one," Rachel answered.

"That's right! _And six times a billion is . . ." _Will pointed to Kurt.

"Six billion?" Kurt guessed.

"Nailed it. _And 54 is 45 more than . . ._ _What is the answer, Quinn?"_

"Nine," Quinn responded.

_"No, it's eight," _Will sang, smiling.

Quinn thought for a second. She sang in the same tone as Will, _"No, it's nine."_

Will stared at her. Then he did the mental math. _"Yes, I was testing you_. _It's nine._ _And that's a magic number."_

"I'm very happy that you're able to extend your stay," Sue said to Will after class was over, "but I must say, I find your methods of teaching very unusual."

Will shrugged. "Well, I did study with Dr. Errol Von Straussenburgerbecken."

"Who?" Sue asked.

"Oh, you don't know him? He's, like, one of the leading leaders in . . . unusual methods. Actually, he's how I was appointed to the Presidential Council for Experimental Educationers."

Sue nodded. "That sounds very impressive, but we're not interested in experimental education here. So if from now on you could just stick to the curriculum, that would be great."

"Yes. Right." Will grinned.

"Thank you," Sue breathed. She turned to go back to her office.

"Hey, Sue?" Will called after her.

She looked over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"I would really love to talk some more about your philosophy on teaching," Will lied. "Do you think we could grab some coffee?"

Sue's eyes widened. She looked totally surprised. "You want to go get some coffee with me?"

"Yeah. I really would."


	4. Chapter 4

**This might be my favorite chapter. :) We'll see!**

* * *

Sue was a bit confused as to why Will had taken her to this place. There was no coffee being served, and it smelled like smoke and body odor. She saw several burly men in leather jackets sitting around, laughing and guzzling down alcohol.

"You're sure you don't have coffee?" Sue asked the waiter.

"I'm quite sure," he sighed, putting a mug of beer down in front of her and walking away.

Sue turned to Will. "I've never been here before." She shrugged. "I've never been to this side of town before, in fact. So, I have been . . . Well, I've been . . . dying to ask you something, Mr. Ryan."

"Please, call me Will," he insisted.

Sue took on a puzzled expression. "Will?"

And then Will remembered that, around Sue and everyone else at William McKinley Preparatory Academy, he was not really Will Schuester; he was Bryan Ryan.

Will cleared his throat. "Bryan. Call me Bryan. I was thinking of my other name. My middle name. Yeah."

"Well, Bryan, in your experience, how does McKinley Prep compare to the other schools that you've taught at?"

"Oh, your school is the best," Will said.

Sue smiled. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not. You know that kids at other schools just have fun all the time? They run around. There's no discipline. They're happy. It's anarchy," he mumbled. "This is the best school I have ever taught at. I swear."

"I'll drink to that." Sue guzzled down the alcohol that had been placed in front of her. It tasted bitter to her at first, but then she liked it. She got a refill and drank it all down at once.

"Stay there," Will said as he stood up. "I'm gonna put on some music." He went to the back of the room to the jukebox. He'd talked to the other teachers earlier and learned that Sue was a total nutjob when it came to Stevie Nicks. She'd once even gotten up on a table and danced when one of her songs came on. Will put on that certain song and smirked as he went back to the table, noticing Sue's wide grin.

"I love this song!" she exclaimed.

"Really?" Will asked, sitting back down.

"Yes! Stevie Nicks!"

"Yeah."

"You know," Sue began, swaying to the music, "she came to town, and she did a concert, and she was just so . . . wild."

Will nodded. "I know. Oh, man."

"She put on the best show ever."

"She's better live than she is on the album," Will stated. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, yes," Sue agreed. She closed her eyes and started to dance in her seat. "Oh, my gosh. No comparison."

"Yeah. You know what? Oh, man, I would love to take the kids to a concert!"

"Concert?"

"Yeah." Will pretended to think for a second. "There's one at the end of the month. The Philharmonic. They do classics. They do Beethoven, Mozart . . . that kind of stuff." He shrugged, even though he knew Sue couldn't see him; her eyes were still closed. "But you have a policy about field trips."

"Would it be educational?" Sue questioned, opening her eyes.

Will grinned. His plan was working perfectly. Sue was mesmerized by the song, and she was already on her third mug of beer, so she didn't really know what she was saying. "It could be very educational."

"Maybe we can make an exception."

"Yes!" Will exclaimed under his breath, mock-punching the air in triumph.

Sue started to sing along to the song aloud.

"I'm holding you to that," Will said when he knew she wasn't listening to him. "Make an exception."

As Sue sang along, Will joined in. He got louder than her.

"Would you stop that, please?" Sue asked after a moment.

Will nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

Will pulled up to Sue's apartment building. He parked the van and, as she gathered her belongings, Sue said, "I had a really nice time."

"Yeah, ditto."

Sue sighed. "This is the first time a teacher has asked me to do anything outside of school."

"No way!" It wasn't really surprising to Will; he'd had to get her borderline-drunk and play her favorite song for her to be the least bit fun.

"It's . . . It's true." Sue swallowed hard. "In six years."

"Well, you know, I think it might be one of those things where people are intimidated."

"Intimidated?" Sue rolled her eyes. "They hate me."

Will shook his head. "No. They don't."

"Yes, they do. They sure do. I can see." Sue twisted around in her seat to stare at Will. "I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always wound this tight. There was a time when I was fun. I was funny."

Will chuckled.

"I was," Sue insisted. "But you can't be funny and be the principal of a prep school."

Will was about to object, but Sue cut him off.

"No, you cannot, because when it comes to their kids, these parents . . . they have no sense of humor. If anything goes wrong, it's my head." She exhaled heavily. "It's my head in the smasher. These parents will come down on me like a nuclear bomb. I can't make a mistake. I gotta be perfect. And that pressure has turned me into one thing that I never wanted to be." She gulped and mouthed the words: _A bitch._

"No," Will disagreed. "You're not."

"Yes, I am. I am a big one."

"Well, I don't think so." Will shrugged. "I think you're pretty cool."

"Really?" Sue smiled. "No."

"Yeah. You're way cool."

* * *

Back in the classroom, Will had a checklist. He was making sure that everything was back in the classroom and not stuffed in the closet or broken from being in there. It was the morning after the fiasco with Sue barging in on their class, so everyone had to get back into the swing of things. Kurt was almost finished with his model of the outfits he wanted everyone to wear. Rachel and Mercedes were helping him out. Artie was working on getting the security monitor working again, and Brittany was standing over his shoulder, watching. Everyone else was helping Will make sure all the equipment was there and working well.

"Okay," Will sighed. "Drums?"

Finn and Quinn inspected the drum set, making sure every piece was there and that there was nothing broken. The two looked up at Will and Quinn said, "House."

"Keyboard?"

Mike gave Will a thumbs-up after he and Santana looked at the keyboard. "House."

"Amps?"

Tina gestured toward both of them, as they were perfectly fine.

"All right. Cables?"

Sam held up the cords that went to the keyboard, amps, and guitars. "Got 'em."

"Okay. Guitar?"

"Yep," Puck muttered, holding up his guitar.

"Mr. Ryan!" Kurt called excitedly.

Will turned on his heel. "Yeah?"

"What do you think?" Kurt gestured toward his designs. He'd made a design for boys and another for girls. The outfits were colorful and had sequins all over. They were extremely glittered and flashy. They almost hurt Will's eyes. But they were _not_ hardcore rock. They were far too sissy. Will didn't like them. But he couldn't tell Kurt that flat-out.

"I don't know. I . . ." Will hesitated. "They might be a little distracting."

"It's glitter rock and it's glam and it's fabulous," Kurt disagreed.

"Kurt, it's just not the right style."

Kurt folded his arms across his chest and scoffed. "You're gonna talk to _me_ about style? You can't dress yourself. Look at that vest. And that sweater you wore yesterday."

"Don't talk about my vest or my sweater."

"You know what?" Kurt threw his hands in the air in surrender. "I give up. They can just wear their uniforms."

Will smiled. "That's not a bad idea."

"Not a bad idea?" Kurt's eyes widened. "I was kidding."

Suddenly, their debacle was cut off by Puck playing the guitar. It wasn't Will's song, and it wasn't a classic rock song that Will had taught Puck, either. It was one that he'd never heard before, not once in his life. Had Puck made it up himself? Will turned away from Kurt.

"Excuse me," he mumbled to the feminine boy, who groaned agitatedly. He made his way over to Puck. "Hey, hey. What is that?"

Puck stopped playing and looked up. "What's what?"

"What are you playing?"

Puck shrugged. "Just something I wrote."

"You wrote a song?" Will yelled.

Puck nodded.

"Well, let's hear it!"

"No. It's not that good," Puck grumbled.

"Come on," Will urged. "I want to hear it, Mohawk."

"Okay," Puck sighed. He started playing the tune on the guitar again. He cleared his throat and sang, _"Baby, we were making straight A's, but we were stuck in a dumb daze. Don't take much to memorize your lies. Feel like I've been hypnotized."_

"Wait." Will stopped him. "You wrote that?"

Puck nodded. Will was astonished. It was good. It was even better than Will's song. And the kid had a hell of a singing voice, too. Will grinned and picked up his guitar.

"That's it. Guys, rock 'n' roll positions," he said to the class. Finn flopped down behind his drum set. Sam picked up his bass. Kurt went behind his keyboard. Quinn, Santana, and Mercedes stood behind their microphones.

"What are you doing?" Puck asked.

"We're gonna learn your song," Will explained.

"But why?"

Will grinned. "That's what bands do, man. Play each other's songs. You got lyrics? Hook me up."

Puck pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket. Will opened it and looked over the lyrics, nodding approvingly.

"No more secret songs." He turned to Kurt. "All right, Kurt, no more reading music. Time for rock."

Kurt nodded.

"Undersizer, just give me a simple beat," Will ordered Finn. "You can rock it up during the song, 'kay?"

Finn nodded and started to play a beat.

Will pointed to Sam. "I'm gonna need a _D_, _C_, _G_, _C_, and keep repeating. 'Kay? Bass it up!"

Sam did just as he was told.

Puck showed Will what he'd been playing. The two played together. Then Will started to sing. Instead of doing the whole song, though, he took it right from the chorus. _"And if you wanna be_ _the teacher's pet, baby, you just better forget it. Rock is the reason, rock is the rhyme."_ Then he cut them off and turned to Puck. "Know what would be better? 'Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme.' Can we try that?"

"Yeah," Puck said, nodding.

Will faced Quinn, Santana, and Mercedes. "Also, we need some 'ooh-la-la's.'" He sang exactly what he wanted it to sound like. "Try that. Can we take it from the chorus?"

They did just that. At the end of the chorus, Will decided that he'd have a guitar solo.

Puck nodded again. "All right."

"You can solo later," Will assured him. He turned to the rest of the class. "Tomorrow is the big day, so get your rest. No late parties, drinking tequila, or trying to get lucky. Chances like this do not come around every day. You've played hard in here, and I am proud of every last stinking one of you. Let's just give this everything we got. We may fall on our faces, but if we do, we will fall with dignity! With a guitar in our hands and rock in our hearts! And in the words of AC/DC: 'We roll tonight to the guitar bite, and for those about to rock, I salute you.'"

* * *

"Sue! Excuse me, wanted to remind you about our field trip tomorrow."

Sue stared at Will with a strange expression. "What field trip?"

"The educational concert," Will reminded her.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Sue breathed, nodding. "I don't know. School policy is very difficult to get around."

Will's eyes widened. "But you said we could make an exception, and the kids are excited about hearing some Mozart."

"I know, but the preparations . . ." Sue shrugged. "There's not enough time. I don't know anything about it. Where is it?"

Will swallowed. "I've got it all covered. What's going on? Are you mad at me?"

Sue sighed. "No, no, Bryan. I'm sorry. I'm just a little stressed out because it's Parents' Night tonight."

"Hey, it's all gonna be fine," Will said.

"Bryan, would you mind coming with me tonight to Parents' Night? It wouldn't be a date or anything. I get nervous around the parents, and there's something about you that makes me feel more relaxed."

"You know what, that sounds so great, Sue, but . . ."

Sue cocked her head to the side. "But what?"

"I wasn't planning on going tonight," Will stated with a shrug.

"You have to. You're their teacher," Sue laughed. "You have to give the presentation."

Crap. Will had totally forgotten about the damn presentation he had been asked to prepare for the parents. And now Sue was calling him out on it. He gulped. "Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I got you. I'm ready for that. So we'll go together?"

Sue smiled. "Why don't you pick me up at, say, 6:40?"

"Done. All right."

* * *

"What are you all dressed up for?" Bryan asked, back at the apartment.

Will smirked. "I got a hot date." He was fixing his hair in the mirror as Bryan looked through the mail, whistling. Suddenly, the whistling stopped.

"That's weird," Bryan mumbled. "I got a check from William McKinley Preparatory Academy for $1,200. I've never worked there."

Will's eyes widened. He ran toward the phone and started punching in numbers vigorously.

"What are you doing?" Bryan asked.

"Calling the school," Will said simply. Once the secretary answered, Will cleared his throat and said, "Hi, this is Bryan Ryan."

"Will? What's going on?" Bryan questioned, obviously confused.

"I told them fifteen times: Make it out to cash!" He slammed the phone down on the receiver.

"Will?"

Will sighed. "I did something bad, Bryan. They called for a sub. I said I was you, to make some money. But then I got there, and the kids . . . They rock, man. There's this super small kid Finn who's like, 'I can't play the drums,' but now he's a rockin' drummer! There's this other girl, Mercedes, who can sing, like, amazingly. She thought she was too fat, so they were dying, and the principal got drunk. Now we're playing Battle of the Bands. It's the coolest thing!"

Bryan stared at Will open-mouthed.

"One day. Just give me one day," Will begged. "Then I'll come clean. I'll tell everyone it was my fault. You'll be fine. One day!"

"Bryan!" Terri called, entering the apartment. "I'm home."

"Don't say anything to her," Will said through clenched teeth. "She'll blow everything. Please?"

Bryan nodded.

"Hey," Terri greeted them, entering the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I got a hot date. That's what's going on." Will stood up. "See you later."

* * *

Will peered into the room full of students with their parents. He gulped and turned to Sue. "Okay, I don't think I can go in there."

"What's wrong?" Sue asked.

"Sue . . . I'm not a teacher."

Sue laughed. "Oh, Bryan. A substitute is a teacher."

Will shook his head. "No, no. I'm not a teacher." He sighed. "I'm a fraud."

"No," Sue disagreed. "You're not. You're a dedicated, talented teacher, and those parents are gonna love you. Just get in there and tell those parents what you've been teaching their kids."

Will strolled into the room. All eyes were on him. He went behind the desk and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, you know, math, English . . . uh, science . . . What else? Geography, history, Latin, Spanish, French . . . Latin . . . math. Did I say that already?"

Several parents raised their eyebrows.

"Anyway," Will continued, "all the stuff you want your kids to know, it's been covered, okay? So, it was great to meet you all, and drive safe."

"Excuse me," Mrs. Puckerman spoke up. "Since you started, all my son talks about is music. He says he wants to be a musician. Is this your influence?"

"Why has my daughter become obsessed with David Geffen?" Mrs. Cohen-Chang asked.

Mr. Hummel held up a Led Zeppelin CD. "And how is _this_ homework?"

"Okay, see, I would like to tell you about what we've been doing in here, but there's such a thing as teacher-student confidentiality, and I don't want to be in breach of educational law because I could be dismembered by the teacher's union, so . . ."

"You expect us to believe this garbage?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Mr. Ryan, don't you think you should tell them about the project?" Rachel asked.

"What project?" one of Rachel's two gay dads asked.

Rachel looked up at him. "Our class project. Every school in the state is competing."

Mrs. Puckerman stared at Will. "Competing?"

"It's not till next quarter," Quinn spoke up, "but Mr. Ryan wanted us to get a head start."

"Well, what's the project, Rachel?"

"It's prestigious," Rachel said. "A win will go on our permanent record."

Puck shrugged. "You might as well tell them, Mr. Ryan."

Will sighed. He looked out into the hall. He saw two policemen standing next to Bryan and Terri, and he immediately began panicking. Terri was yapping away, pointing at Will. Bryan looked nervous. He'd promised not to tell Terri! Will ignored his rapidly-beating heart and looked out at the parents.

"Okay, look. I've gotten to know your kids the past few weeks. They're awesome." He looked at Mrs. Puckerman. "Puck is an insane guitarist. He's the next Hendrix, and he's ten." He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Abrams. "And Artie here, he's a genius! He did a whole professional light show on his computer in three days. And . . ." Will searched the class, and his gaze landed on the Fabray's. "And Quinn here, she's . . . She can hit an _A_ above high _C_. Did you know that? Because that's tough. Not many singers can do that." Will looked at the Berry's. "And Rachel is gonna be the first woman president of the United States. She could run this year. I would vote for her." Will took a deep breath before continuing on. "Look, they're just really cool kids. If they were mine, I would be so proud. And I am proud, just to even know them. And—"

Suddenly, Will was cut off. One of the officers approached him.

"Sir, can I see you in the hall for a moment?" he asked.

"Let me just say a couple more things," Will murmured.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Pierce asked. "What's happening?"

The other officer came in then. "Apparently, that man is not Bryan Ryan.

"What?" Mr. Lopez demanded.

"This man is Bryan Ryan," the officer repeated.

"He's not even a teacher!" Terri yelled, storming into the room.

Will glared at Bryan. "You called the cops?"

"She did," Bryan said, jerking his thumb toward Terri. "She got it out of me. Sorry."

"Bryan," Sue whispered, entering the room. "Bryan, is this true? Who are you?"

Will took a deep breath. "My name is William Schuester. And, no, I'm not a licensed teacher, but I have been touched by your kids. And I'm pretty sure I've touched them."

Everyone's eyes widened, and Mr. Evans muttered, "Oh, my God."

* * *

Later, back at the apartment, Terri growled at Will, "I have nothing to say to you. It's one thing to throw your life away, but to put Bryan in jeopardy is selfish!"

"You told me to be like Bryan and get a job," Will reminded her.

"I told you to be _like_ Bryan! I didn't tell you to _be_ Bryan!" Terri screamed as Will flopped down on the couch. "You're not gonna apologize?"

"You apologize for calling the cops," Will mumbled. "I didn't murder anybody. I wanted to play a great show. I was _this close_!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Bryan yelled suddenly. "Would you both just cut it out for one second?"

Terri scoffed and stormed off to her bedroom.

Will looked at Bryan sincerely. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. I was desperate. It was easy for you to give up music. It ain't easy for me."

"It wasn't easy for me. I miss it," Bryan told him.

"Well, then why'd you give it up?"

Bryan shoved his face in his hands. "Because I couldn't keep kidding myself anymore. You can blame it all on bad luck, but in the end, maybe we just weren't that good. Sometimes you gotta know when to quit."

"Right, maybe I suck."

"That's not what I said."

Will leapt to his feet. "Well, music is my life, man. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, but . . ." Bryan stood up as well. "I think it's time you moved out." He shrugged. "Sorry."

* * *

"So his name wasn't Bryan Ryan?" Mercedes clarified. The kids were all sitting in the classroom, waiting. It was the morning after Parents' Night, and all of their parents were in Sue's office, fighting with her about Will.

"No. It was, like, William somethin'," Santana sighed.

"What about the project?" Brittany asked.

"Wake up, Britt; there was no project!" Rachel exclaimed. "He wanted us to play a show so he could make money."

Artie shook his head. "I can't believe we weren't graded."

"Why are you bummed?" Puck asked everyone. "We had a three-week vacation. It was a waste of time, but it was better than school."

"It was not a waste of time!" Finn snapped.

Puck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what it was."

"You're an idiot," Finn told him.

"Shut up!" Puck yelled.

"No, you shut up!"

"You want to go?"

"Touch him," Quinn dared Puck. "I'll shove that guitar down your throat."

"Mr. Ryan was cool," Sam said. "We worked too long and too hard not to play the show."

Tina shrugged. "Okay, so what are we supposed to do?"

Puck stood up. "We get out of here and play the damn show!"


	5. Chapter 5

****

**I lied. THIS is my favorite chapter. :D**

**

* * *

**

"How could you let our kids be exposed to this impostor?" one of Rachel's dads demanded.

Sue and the secretary of the school, Mrs. Riley, were standing in Sue's office. Mrs. Riley was staying quiet, for the most part, and Sue was trying to talk over all of the angry parents.

"Do you just let anyone teach here?" Puck's mother asked.

Mr. Lopez was fuming. "I pay $15,000!"

Sue struggled to get them all to calm down. "Let me assure you that nothing is more important to us than for you to feel your children are in a safe and secure environment," she tried. Then she turned toward her desk and began searching through a stack of papers.

"Excuse me," Mr. Chang called.

Sue held up her finger. "Just one second, please."

"Excuse me!" Mike's father yelled again.

It occurred to Mrs. Riley to go check on the kids, since they had all been alone for about twenty minutes now. She turned toward the door and headed swiftly toward the classroom.

"Wait a minute," Mr. Evans hollered after the secretary. "Where are you going?"

Mrs. Pierce yelled at Sue, "We want some answers, now!"

"Just one second!"

Mrs. Riley raced down the hallway and peered into the room. It was totally empty. She gasped and said under her breath, "Where did they go?" Then she turned toward Sue's office and bellowed, "Help!" She looked back into the classroom. "Children?"

* * *

"Okay, we're all here," Rachel announced after taking a headcount of the class. They were in the parking lot, right where Will had usually parked his van every day. The space was occupied by a rundown old blue Nissan now.

"Where's Mr. Ryan?" Mercedes asked.

"He didn't tell you? He's at home. We need to pick him up," Puck said. "And his name isn't Mr. Ryan. It's Mr. Schuester." He started down the street. The others hesitated, watching him. He turned and motioned for them to follow him, yelling, "Let's go! Hurry!"

Once they got to the apartment, Puck, Sam, and Finn went inside while all the others stayed on the sidewalk. The three boys took it upon themselves to enter the apartment and they started to look for Will. They found him sleeping in his bedroom. After looking at each other for a few moments, the boys decided on a way to get him up. Puck grabbed a pillow from under Will's head and threw it at his face. Will's eyes popped open and he sat up slowly.

"Wake up!" Finn exclaimed.

"How'd you guys get in here?" Will asked tiredly.

Sam shrugged. "Front door was open."

Will yawned. "Why aren't you in school?"

"We did what you said." Finn smiled. "We stuck it to The Man."

"Forget about what I told you," Will sighed. "Look. I'm a loser, okay? You listen to my advice, and you'll end up like me. With nothing."

"Come on, man, quit goofing around. This is serious business. We're on a mission. One great show can change the world," Puck quoted.

Will grinned.

Finn said, "Look out the window."

And Will did just that. He looked down to see the other nine fourth-graders, smiling and waving up at him.

"Mr. Schuester! Come down!" Rachel yelled.

"Come on!" Tina and Mercedes called in unison.

* * *

"Hi, Mr. Schuester," Rachel greeted Will once he, Puck, Sam, and Finn got down to the street. "How's it going?"

"You guys, all I can say is . . ." Will smiled. "Let's rock.

All of the kids giggled.

"One more thing." Will sighed. "I want to say I'm sorry that I used you guys. I'm sorry I lied. It's not cool to lie to your band."

"Come on! We'll be late," Santana urged. "There's no time for apologies. Let's go!"

"All right. Let's go."

"Where are you going?" Bryan asked as he and Terri exited the apartment.

"I'm going to the show," Will explained. He held the doors of the back of the van open as the kids piled inside. All of the equipment was already there from when Will left the school. Once the kids were all seated, Will closed the doors. "You want to go?"

Bryan smiled. "Yeah, I want to go."

"You're serious?" Terri asked, her eyes widening.

"I don't want to miss this, Terri."

Terri folded her arms across her chest. "Unbelievable. After everything he's done to you? That is so typical Bryan. When will you stop being a pushover? When are you finally gonna start sticking up for yourself?"

Bryan glared at her. He got into the passenger side of Will's van, and Will began to drive away, leaving a speechless Terri on the side of the road.

* * *

"Excuse me," Sue yelled to the parents, who were all screaming things at her at once. She shushed them, but they didn't listen to her. She cleared her throat and yelled even louder, "Excuse me!"

They all stopped talking abruptly.

Sue took a deep breath. "I have just been informed that all of your children are missing."

The parents all looked at each other for a moment or two.

"_What?"_

* * *

"Hey!"

Will and the kids all ran into the building, finding a middle-aged, slightly corpulent woman with grayish-blond curls. She was holding a clipboard in her hands.

"Can I help you?" she asked sweetly.

"We're competing," Will panted. "We're the School of Rock."

"You and the kids?" the woman clarified, reading over the clipboard.

"We're the band and crew."

The woman noticed that they were to be playing next, and her eyes widened. "You'd better get in there."

"Come on," Will exclaimed, beginning to run backstage with the kids in tow. They found a very young, skinny girl with a headset and a different clipboard. She turned to look at them.

"We're here!"

"You're late. You're up next," the girl told them.

"Okay, we'll be ready." Will turned to the band. "Let's go." They all began rushing around, tuning instruments and making sure everything was still intact. Brittany stood by and told passersby to "keep moving; there's nothing to see here, people." Puck stood on the side of the stage and looked out at the band performing, which happened to be Will's ex-band, No Vacancy.

"Finn, check this out," Puck said quietly.

"Whoa," Finn murmured. "It's awesome."

Will shook his head. "Don't listen to those hacks. Come on. Band meeting. Now. Gather 'round." The kids joined Will in forming a circle. "All right. Britt, how's security?"

"We're set," Brittany said.

"What about the lights?" Will asked Artie.

The wheelchair-bound boy nodded. "Light board's set."

"Kurt, how's beautification?"

Kurt glanced at everyone's school uniforms and raised his eyebrows. "Are you kidding?"

Will ignored Kurt's sarcastic remark. "Okay, listen up, you guys. We only have one song to let these guys know who we are." He glanced at Puck. "So I think we should play Puck's."

Puck's eyes widened. "But why?"

"The thing is, you guys," Will sighed, "I ain't that good. I'm not. I can admit it." He stared right at Puck. "But you're ten, and you're better than me. Your song rocks harder, so let's play it." He looked down and shrugged. "But you know what? That's just one guy's opinion. This ain't my band; it's _our_ band. We all have a say."

"We haven't practiced that one as much," Quinn reminded Will. "I mean, we might not win."

"Hey, we didn't come here to win. We came here to play one great show." Will grinned. "And on Puck's song, you guys really rock. You know my vote. Who else is with me?"

All of the kids raised their hands, and Will smiled.

"All right. Let's pray."

The whole circle joined hands. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

"God of rock," Will began, "thank you for this chance to kick ass. We are your humble servants. Please give us the power to blow minds with our high-voltage rock. In your name, we pray. Amen."

"Amen," the kids echoed.

Will's eyes flew open. "Now let's get out there and melt some faces!"

"Yeah!"

"Go get ready." Before Rachel go could off with Tina, Will caught her shoulder. "Rachel, I've decided to make you the band manager."

Rachel smiled. "I knew you would find a job more fitting for me."

Will nodded. "Don't let me down."

"I won't!" Rachel's smile widened as she turned and ran toward the others to help them get ready.

"You gotta sing it," Puck said to Will suddenly.

Will turned to face him. "It's your song," he said.

"Yeah, it's cool. I'm no singer."

"Are you kidding me?" Will asked in disbelief. "Dude, you've got an awesome voice! You've gotta sing somethin'! You've got more talent than you could imagine, man!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive!" Will exclaimed. "Look. I'll sing the first verse and I'll have Mercedes sing the second one, but you've gotta sing the choruses, okay?"

Puck thought for a second. "Only if Finn and Sam will sing it with me."

"Well, we'll have to use one of the backup mikes to attach to Finn's drum set, and you're gonna have to share one with Sam."

"That's fine."

"All right, then." Will smirked. "Go let the boys know they're rockin' out with you on the choruses, and tell Mercedes she'll be singing the second verse, 'kay?"

Puck nodded and ran off.

"Mr. Schuester, what about the lights? All the cues are to the other song!" Artie said in a panic.

Will put his hands on Artie's shoulders. "Calm down, Wheels. You're just gonna have to feel it. You gotta improvise. You know this song. I know you can do it."

Artie took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Go!" Will turned Artie's wheelchair around. "Roll like the wind, Abrams!"

Artie started pushing his wheelchair to where the light board was. Will grinned after him. Then he felt Kurt tap him on the back. He turned around to see the boy holding up a bigger version of the black pants, white shirt, and red-and-black-striped tie that the boys at WMPA wore for uniforms.

"Here," Kurt muttered, shoving the outfit into Will's hands.

"What's this?" Will asked.

Kurt shrugged. "You wanted to go with the uniforms, so put it on. Quick."

* * *

"Slow down," the ticket collector growled at the parents as they struggled to get into the show. Sue, Hiram and Leroy Berry, Carole Hudson, Russell and Judy Fabray, Hannah Puckerman, Burt Hummel, Daniel and Lilith Jones, Thomas and Melanie Abrams, Patricia Cohen-Chang, John and Ana Lopez, Katherine Pierce, David Evans, and Liam Chang were all trying to get into the audience at once. They wanted to get to their children, for they were almost positive Will had abducted them, being the creep he was.

Hannah said through clenched teeth, "My son is—"

"Where's your ticket?" the collector cut her off.

"My son's in there," she continued. "He's ten."

"You're not going in without a ticket."

Russell sighed agitatedly. "We're not here for the show."

"We have a situation," Carole added.

"I'm Sue Sylvester," Sue chimed in. "I'm the principal of William McKinley Prep. We had a field trip that went awry."

"Some lunatic kidnapped our kids!" Lilith exclaimed.

"Our kids are in there," Patricia told the burly man holding them all back.

"You're breaking my heart," the man said sarcastically. "There's the ticket table."

"Maybe we should just get tickets," Thomas suggested.

John nodded. "Let's get tickets!"

After they got tickets, Sue and the parents struggled to get through the crowd. They were determined to make it to the front of the throng so they'd be able to see their kids up close.

"Excuse me."

"My child's up there."

"Excuse me, please. Our kids are in here."

"Pardon me."

"Please, move out of the way."

"Excuse me, please."

"Quit pushing!" someone yelled, shoving Leroy.

"Excuse me."

Somebody else growled, "Hey, stop it."

* * *

"Come on!" Will yelled. The kids all went onstage. The audience burst into applause. Finn went behind the drum set that looked a bit too big for his tiny size. Puck and Sam went to opposite sides of the stage to hook up their guitars. Will, clad in the uniform that was just a little too small for him, went to the front with his own guitar. Quinn, Mercedes, and Santana went toward the back of the stage, standing behind their microphone. Kurt went to his keyboard. Mike stood right by the three backup singers, ready to dance his heart out.

"We're the School of Rock," Will announced, causing the audience to cheer louder. "This song was written by our own Noah Puckerman."

Puck waved, and the audience clapped wildly for him. Hannah's eyes widened. She wasn't even aware that her son had written a song.

Without any further hesitation, Will began to play the introduction of the song on his guitar. After a few beats, Puck and Sam played a chord on their guitars and, at the same time, Finn hit the crash cymbal. They repeated the move once more, and then three times in a row. Finn played a short fill on the drums, and then kept a steady beat as the song started abruptly. Mike started to dance in step with the beat. Kurt was hitting the keys on the keyboard as he'd practiced. Sam played the bass to the rhythm of the song. Will continued to play the tune he'd started the song with, and Puck played the melody of the song. As all of this went on, Artie used the light show from the other song, but he switched things around to make it fit with the beat, and a montage of lights and photos played behind the band.

Will grinned as he began to sing. _"Baby, we was making straight A's, but we were stuck in a dumb daze. Don't take much to memorize your lies. I feel like I've been hypnoticized!"_

Quinn, Mercedes, and Santana were marching in place, smiling as they waited for their cue in the chorus.

"_And then that magic man, he come to town," _Will continued. _"He done spun my head around. He said, 'Recess is in session! Two and two make five!' And now, baby, oh, I'm alive. Oh, yeah, I am alive!"_

Will quickly jumped back, allowing Puck and Sam to run toward the microphone and meet up in the middle. They looked back at Finn, and the three boys all started to sing together as they played. Quinn, Mercedes, and Santana started to sing their "ooh-la-la's" as well.

"_And if you wanna be the teacher's pet, well, baby, you just better forget it! Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme! __You better get me to school on time!"_

As Finn hit the bass drum to the beat, he yelled into the microphone in his best rock voice, "Oh, yeah!" Several of the audience members thought it was sort of cute, since he was so small and had a babyish face.

"_Yeah!"_ the three backup singers screamed.

Will began wailing out on the guitar in a guitar solo. The audience went wild. Puck and Sam laughed, watching Will slide all over the floor as he played. Once he was done with the solo, he pointed at Mercedes, who took the microphone off the stand and went to the front of the stage.

"_Oh, you know I was on the honor roll," _she crooned. _"Got good grades, ain't got no soul. Raise my hand before I can speak my mind. I've been biting my tongue too many times."_

"_And then that magic man took you away," _Will sang._ "Do what magic man do, not what magic man say!"_

Mercedes quickly went back to stand with Quinn and Santana. Will walked up to the microphone at the front of the stage.

"_Now, can I please have the attention of the class?" _he yelled into the microphone. _"Today's assignment . . ."_

For one very short second, it got totally silent. Every single one of the eight kids onstage screamed in perfect unison,_ "Kick some ass!"_

The audience cheered wildly. Sue's jaw dropped, but then she smiled. Most of the parents smiled along with her, and a few of them burst out laughing. But not one of them was left frowning. From the middle of the crowd, Bryan was laughing, too.

"_And if you wanna be the teacher's pet," _Will and the kids all sang together, _"well, baby, you just better forget it! Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme! You better get me to school on time!"_

They repeated the chorus once more. Will yelled, _"Oh, yeah!" _Then everyone stopped playing, with the exception of Will and Finn. Will played the tune he'd played in the beginning of the song, and Finn kept a soft beat on the cymbal. Then they all played what they'd done in the beginning, all hitting the same note three times in a row.

Puck stepped up to the microphone and started to speak into it. _"This is my final exam_. _Now y'all know who I am. I might not be that perfect son, but y'all be rocking when I'm done!"_ He did a power slide to the front of the stage and began his own guitar solo. The audience cheered. Puck smirked and continued on, getting to his feet as he kept playing.

"Your son is very skilled!" Burt told Hannah, needing to yell to be heard over the cheering of the crowd.

She nodded. "Thanks! So is yours!"

When Puck finished his solo, Will handed his guitar to Mike. Then he sprinted to the front of the stage and leapt off. The crowd caught him. Will had always wanted to crowd-surf, but he'd never gotten the chance. He laughed and cheered as they passed him around. Then he pointed to the stage and yelled, "Take me back!"

They sent him toward the front of the crowd, and he got back onstage. The band played the very last note, Finn bashing both cymbals at once. Backstage, Tina threw her arms around Artie's neck. Rachel and Brittany began jumping and squealing. The band had done it! The crowd was screaming and roaring with enthusiasm as they burst into applause. Everybody onstage took a bow, and then they all rushed off.

* * *

"To get in, you gotta be in a band or have a pass," one of the backstage workers told Sue.

She stared him down. "I am principal of the school's band."

The guy shrugged. "Oh, right on."

"All right?" Sue exclaimed, and the guy nodded. She smoothed out her shirt and found the band celebrating backstage, all jumping and screaming and cheering. They couldn't believe that they'd actually done it! They were so going to win.

"That was incredible!" Sue yelled to them. They all stopped jumping and smiled at her. "Oh, my gosh! The lights and the guitar solos . . . Was it really you playing?"

Will's brow puckered. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? I'm furious!" Sue laughed. "I'm horrified, but it was incredible! It was so great! You guys were so great! I can't believe it!"

"Dude! You did it, man!" Will praised Artie, giving him a high-five. "Those lights were awesome!"

One of the workers backstage said to another one, "They're incredible."

"Amazing," the other chimed in.

The two approached the band, and one of them asked, "Who's the manager?"

"I am." Rachel stepped forward. "Rachel Berry. Nice to meet you."

The guy laughed and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

"Hey, wait. Come here, guys."

Finn, Puck, and Sam turned toward two guys from a different band. One of them had a guitar, and the other had drumsticks.

"You guys rock," the guitarist said. "How old are you?"

"Ten," Puck answered.

"Ten?" the drummer clarified. "No way, dude." He gestured toward Finn. "The one looks five! I seriously thought it was, like, a kindergartener that can play drums better than me."

Sam nudged Finn playfully, and the smaller boy smiled.

"How long you been playing?" the guitarist asked Puck.

"Three years. I used to play classical." He smirked. "Now I play rock."

* * *

"Hey, you in a band?" Sue was asked by a man with long, greasy blond hair pulled into a ponytail. He smelled of alcohol and dirty socks.

"No. No." Sue shook her head. "No, I am the principal of a school."

"Yeah? Wow, that's cool," the guy said.

Sue nodded. "Yes, yes, it is. It's . . . It's very cool."

"Yeah. It is cool."

"Yes. It is very cool."

"I like that."

"Do you?"

"You're hot. You're so hot."

Sue leaned toward him. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Are you warm?" Sue asked.

* * *

"All right, guys, this is it," Will told the kids as they waited backstage for the winner to be announced. "The moment of truth."

A guy holding an envelope stood in the middle of the stage with a microphone in hand. "The winner of this year's Battle of the Bands competition is . . ." He opened the envelope and read the results aloud. "No Vacancy!"

The audience went totally silent as No Vacancy came onstage and shook hands with the guy that had the envelope. No more than ten people clapped slowly.

"No! Boo!" someone yelled from the audience. When they did so, the rest of the audience caught on and started to yell negative things as well.

"It was a beauty contest!" somebody else insisted. "They didn't listen to the music!"

"Boo! No!"

"On behalf of the Battle of the Bands," the guy said, holding a gigantic check that was bigger than Finn and Mike combined, "I'd like to present this check for $20,000 to No Vacancy."

"No, School of Rock!" Carole yelled from the audience.

"School of Rock! School of Rock!" Burt chanted. He continued to do so. Carole, Hannah, Judy, and Russell joined him. Then the rest of the parents did. Audience members joined as well. "School of Rock! School of Rock! School of Rock!"

* * *

"What's wrong?" Finn asked Will.

"Didn't you hear?" Will frowned. "We lost."

Puck shrugged. "Chill out, dude. Rock isn't about getting an A."

"Sex Pistols never won anything," Tina said, remembering the lesson on famous rockers Will had taught them.

Sam smiled. "Don't let The Man get you down."

"Dude, you gotta cheer up. We played a kick-ass show," Puck reminded Will.

"We did, didn't we?" Will started to smirk. "It was unbelievable, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly, all thirteen band members stopped moving. They could hear something coming from the audience.

"_School of Rock! School of Rock! __School of Rock! School of Rock!"_

It kept repeating, and Will was astonished. The entire audience was cheering for them. They wanted the band to play another song! Will knew they'd done awesome. They totally deserved to win, and the audience apparently agreed.

"What's that?" Sam asked, referring to the chanting of their band's name.

"_School of Rock! School of Rock!"_

"It's an encore," Will explained. "They want us to go play another song. It's good! Go, you guys!"

The eight band members scurried onto the stage. Rachel and Brittany followed, and Tina pushed Artie's wheelchair onto the stage, too.

"Wait, no," Will called after Rachel, Brittany, Tina, and Artie. "Just the band!" He sighed after realizing that all twelve kids were leaping onstage, waving at the audience and punching the air in triumph. "Okay, everybody!"

Will walked out with them, basking in the bright lights and loving everybody's wild cheers. "Thank you. Yes, we will play one more." He whispered in each of the kids' ears what they would be playing. He went to the front of the stage and counted off. Puck and Will started to strum, Finn began a drum beat, Sam kept up the rhythm, Brittany joined Mike in a freestyle dance, Rachel stood with the other three background singers, Tina pushed Artie's wheelchair around, and Kurt punched the keys on the keyboard.

"_Riding down the highway, going to a show. Stopping on the byway, playing rock 'n' roll."_

* * *

Rachel got out of the passenger side of her family's van, waving at Leroy. "Bye, Daddy. See you later." She headed into Will's apartment building and waited for him to unlock the door. Once he did, she went into his room to see everyone else in her class already waiting there for her.

"Sorry I'm late," she sighed, sitting down next to Puck. "My dad got home late."

"It's okay, Rachel. I've called this band meeting at my new apartment because there's a serious matter that needs to be discussed," Will explained. "It's been a year now, and you're all eleven-year-olds at a brand new school. A public school. No more preppy pants private schools for any of you, right?"

Puck scoffed. "Never again."

"That place was a prison chamber," Mike muttered.

"And those uniforms were _so _tacky." Kurt grimaced in disgust.

Will smirked. "Well, things are going to be a bit different now," he told them all. "We've played gigs all over Ohio for a year. Things have been going great. But I think it's time the band comes to an end."

"_What?" _several of the kids demanded in unison.

"Mr. Schuester, what are you talking about?" Rachel exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "You just said that things have been going great!"

"I know, Rach. They have. But you're all in middle school now. I don't want you all getting too cocky; public school kids don't like that stuff. If you go around with your chins up telling everyone all about your super awesome band, you're gonna get beat up."

"This isn't about our playing, is it, Mr. S?" Sam asked. "We can do better."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "We'll practice more and try harder when we play shows!"

Will shook his head. "No, it's not about that. You guys are incredible," he murmured. "It's the reason I just stated. If you show off too much, you're gonna get killed in public school."

"Who cares?" Puck asked. "I can beat those jackasses down with one hand tied behind my back! If anyone messes with my bandmates, they're gonna get a piece of the Puckster."

"I appreciate your bravery, Puck, but this isn't going to work out anymore." Will took a deep breath. "Look, guys. I'm twenty-seven years old now. I want to fall in love and make a new life. I want to be a Spanish teacher because I totally aced Spanish in high school. I need to go to college to get a degree in teaching so I can get a job like that." He looked down. "But I can't do any of that if I'm running around in a rock band for the rest of my life."

"This isn't fair," Quinn said through clenched teeth. She, along with a handful of the other kids, had tears welling in her eyes. "We'll work harder. We can work on getting to places faster and getting jobs done more quickly. You can go to school while still playing gigs with us."

"I can book less shows. That'll give you more time for school," Rachel said, wiping her hand across her big brown eyes.

"You always told us chicks dig dudes who play in bands," Finn reminded Will. "Girls will be falling all over you, Mr. S. That's how you'll fall in love."

"I'm really grateful for all of your ideas, guys. I really am." Will stood up slowly. "But this isn't going to work out anymore. We need to put this band behind us. If I get my degree quick enough and snag a teaching job at a public school in Lima, I might see you guys in the future. Until then, this is the last time I'll see any of you. I want you guys to stay friends for as long as you can, okay? I want the twelve of you to stick together, no matter what happens through your years."

Rachel plopped down on the couch, shoving her face in her hands, weeping audibly. Quinn folded her arms across her chest as she let her tears flow down her face. Finn squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to send the tears back into his body, but he had no luck. Sam stared at the floor, the wetness in his blue irises clearly visible. Puck wiped at his damp eyes vigorously; he had to keep up his badass image. Tina sat down on Artie's lap, the two of them sniffling. Kurt and Mercedes sat right next to each other on the couch, and they let their eyes water without trying to stop them. Mike tried to hide his face from everyone so they wouldn't see him crying. Santana and Brittany were both letting the little rivers of tears roll down their cheeks.

"I'm gonna leave you guys alone now. You can all call your parents to pick you up." Will swallowed hard. "If you ever _do _see me again, don't bring up the band." He looked up at the kids he had come to love. "We won't play together anymore, but the School of Rock will live on forever."

"Shut the hell up, Schuester," Quinn said hoarsely, quoting the lesson the class had had on writing a rock song.

"Get outta here, stupid ass," Mercedes added.

"You're a joke," Rachel cried, lifting her head slowly. "You're the worst teacher I've ever had."

Will smiled. "I love you guys, too."


	6. Epilogue

**Here's the end! :) This whole story is a lot shorter than I thought it was going to turn out to be, but whatever. I hope you liked reading it as much as I loved writing it! :D Leave a review!**

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* * *

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Will sighed happily, looking around at his new office. He'd gone through four years of college and was now a teacher at William McKinley High School. He had wanted a job at this school specifically because it had the same name as William McKinley Preparatory Academy, and it brought him so many amazing memories. He set down his bag and went to check out his new Spanish room. It was after lunch on a school day in the middle of the year. The Spanish teacher had just quit after the first semester, so Will had jumped at the opportunity.

As he walked through the hall, Will saw a very tall boy with familiar unkempt brown hair and brown eyes. He had squared shoulders and was wearing a football uniform with the number five on it. Standing by his side was a girl that was much shorter than he. She was wearing a cheerleading uniform with the abbreviation WMHS written in white across the front. Her blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her green eyes glistened as she looked up at the tall boy. The two smiled at each other, laughing at whatever one of them had just said.

Will knew the two of them from somewhere. He just couldn't pinpoint where. As they came closer, he saw the blond girl's gold cross necklace. He gasped and realized who the freakishly tall boy with messy brown hair must be.

He approached them quickly. When they stopped and stared at him, Will smiled slightly and said, "It's Christ Crusader and Undersizer. I knew it."

Quinn grinned. "Mr. Schuester?"

Will nodded.

"Awesome!" Finn exclaimed. "You got a job here?"

"Yeah. I'm the new Spanish teacher." Will looked Finn up and down. "You're not really an Undersizer anymore, I see."

Finn shrugged. "Didn't I tell you when I was ten and looked like a five-year-old? My mom said that kids that are real small get real big when they're older. Now I'm taller than you."

"I can see that." Will turned to Quinn. "How're things going, Q?"

"I'm only a freshman, but I'm already the captain of the cheerleading squad — the Cheerios," she said proudly. "I'm also president of the celibacy club." Suddenly, her face lit up. "We're called the Christ Crusaders. That name was always in the back of my mind, and when I came up with it for the celibacy club, I couldn't help but think it wasn't original."

Will smiled. "That's awesome. Glad my offensive nicknames were of some use." He looked around, and then cleared his throat. "So, uh, is the rest of the class still in school?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes."

"They're all here at McKinley?"

"Oh, except for Sam," Finn told Will.

Will frowned. "What happened to Wide-Mouth?"

"His grades started getting, like, really bad in fifth grade and he couldn't keep up with the rest of us. They found out he was dyslexic," Finn explained, "and the teachers threatened to hold him back. He started to hate the school and didn't wanna have to go through fifth grade there again, so he and his parents moved away. He went through fifth grade again, but at a different school. Now he's a grade behind us and at some all-boys boarding school somewhere else in Ohio."

"Poor kid." Will shook his head. "He was cool. I kinda wanted to see him. But do you know where I can find all the others?"

"They'll probably be all around here in the hallway," Finn said. "It's free period right now, and everybody just kinda chills in the hall."

"All right. Thanks. Do you guys take Spanish?"

"Yeah. We both do," Quinn replied happily.

Will's grin widened. "Awesome. So I'll see you guys in my class. It was nice catching up." He nodded once at them, and then continued through the hall. He found four kids that he really remembered. There was a lean boy with sculpted hair and rosy cheeks, smoothing out his navy blue brand-name sweater. Next to him was a short, slightly corpulent African-American girl with puffy black hair. She was laughing along with a skinny Asian girl with blue streaks in her sleek black hair, and she was wearing combat boots. She stood behind the red wheelchair of a boy with glasses and long dark hair.

Will smiled, running up to them. "Well, if it isn't Hummel, Afro-Puffs, Wheels, and T."

"M-Mr. Schuester?" Tina smiled. "Is that y-y-you?"

"Yes, it's me! What's new, you guys?"

"Not much at all," Artie replied honestly. "We're not very popular here."

"Finn and Quinn are the quarterback and the head cheerleader, so everyone kinda worships them," Mercedes explained. She shrugged. "But whatever. We've been sticking together."

"Other than Finn and Quinn, the other stayed with you guys, right?" Will asked.

"Puck joined the football team with Finn. Those two are best friends," Mercedes said. "But Puck's a total player and kind of a jerk. He's already got a reputation for dating and sleeping with every girl he can."

Will honestly couldn't say that that surprised him.

"Santana is k-k-kinda the s-same," Tina added. "She sleeps w-w-with everyone, t-too."

"And Brittany is her best friend. Those two are as inseparable as they were in fourth grade," Artie explained. "They're on the Cheerios squad, and they're sort of Quinn's posse."

"Then there's Rachel," Kurt sighed. "She is a neurotic, high-maintenance freak with a serious determination of becoming a star on Broadway and making it big. Nobody really likes to hang with her. She's too high-strung."

"Mike's on the football team as well," Artie remembered. "He's a typical jock. He doesn't like to hang out with us losers. He hangs around with this new kid Matt Rutherford."

Will sighed. "That's kind of a shame. I was hoping you'd all stay good friends." He looked down the hall. "Well, I'm gonna go catch up with the rest of the kids. Good luck, you guys." He walked right past them and headed toward an abnormally short brunette with big, sparkling brown eyes, who was at her locker, gathering books for her next class.

"It's Berry!" Will exclaimed.

Rachel turned to him. She beamed. "Mr. Schuester! What a pleasure seeing you! I assume you took the job opening as Spanish teacher?"

Will nodded. "Yup. How's everything going, Rachel?"

She shrugged. "I've got good grades. I post MySpace videos of myself singing every night. I still take voice lessons and dance lessons. My dads are continuing their happiness together. I get a slushie facial every now and then, but that's okay."

"What's a slushie facial?" Will asked.

"A popular kid gets a slushie at the cafeteria's snack bar and throws it in a not-so-popular kid's face," Rachel explained. "I get one pretty often, actually."

Will frowned. "That's not very nice."

"This _school_ isn't very nice, Mr. Schuester."

Will sighed, checking his watch. "Well, I haven't got much more time to see the others, so I have to go now. Have a good day, Rachel." He continued on to find a tall, dark-haired Latina walking with a lean blond. Both of them had cheerleading uniforms, and their pinkies were interlocked. Will stopped in front of them. "Hey! It's Brittany Susan Pierce and Grumpy McGee!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here, Schuester?"

"I'm the new Spanish teacher," he replied. "How are you guys? I haven't seen you in . . . what, four years?"

"I have no idea who you are," Brittany told him.

"Britt, he was that substitute we had in fourth grade. Remember? He told us his name was Bryan Ryan?"

Brittany's stare was blank.

"We did that project with him," Santana muttered hesitantly, not wanting to bring up the band.

"Oh!" Brittany squeaked, smiling. "I remember now!"

"Now, if you'll excuse us, Schuester, we have to go." Santana pulled Brittany along, and they were down the hall before Will could even respond. He sighed and continued to walk down the hall. Then he found a hazel-eyed boy with a Mohawk swaggering down the hall, a gracefully-striding Asian boy at his side. Each of them held a bamboo cup with colorful slush in it.

"It's the spazzy Mohawk-ed bastard and the dancer with the Asian fusion," Will sighed. "What's up, guys?"

"Who the hell are you?" Puck asked.

"I'm William Schuester. I was your substitute in fourth grade. Remember?"

"I remember," Mike said, grinning.

"Oh, yeah." Puck nodded slightly. "Um . . . hi."

"How are you?" Will asked.

"Fine," Puck mumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new Spanish teacher."

Puck sighed. "Okay, whatever. We gotta go." He hit Mike's forearm and headed down the hall toward Rachel. Mike followed quickly. Puck called Rachel's name. She turned on her heel and, at that moment, Puck and Mike threw their slushies into her face. She gasped and wiped the grape ice away from her eyes as the two footballers high-fived, continuing their way down the hall. Rachel licked her lips before entering the bathroom to clean off; grape was her favorite slushie flavor, after all.

Will shook his head. He couldn't believe how much the kids had changed. They all had around the same personalities as they had when they were ten years old, but they were all separated into different cliques now. Will knew that since he was at the school now, they'd all remember the School of Rock. Even though they'd all promised never to talk about it again, they could still look at each other and remember what each person had contributed to the band and the lessons they all learned together.

As Will was walking toward his office again, Puck passed him. Will smiled at him, and Puck just nodded to acknowledge him. Their shoulders brushed against each other. Will heard Puck humming a familiar tune. Will grinned widely and turned into his office, singing that same song under his breath.

"_And if you wanna be the teacher's pet, well, baby, you just better forget it. Rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme. You better get me to school on time."_


End file.
